I’ll Put a Spell on You by mauveone

If you don’t do as I say:

I am a Witch you know.

A Witch in every way.

Do as I say,

Behave and I can make Snow.

I can make it your Birthday.

If you like it could be Christmas so,

Just do as I say,

I am a Witch you know.

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Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,

    Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

    For my unconquerable soul.

 

In the fell clutch of circumstance

    I have not winced or cried aloud,

Under the bludgeonings of chance

    My head is bloody, but unbowed.

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

    Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

    Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.

 

It matters not how strait the gate,

    How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

    I am the captain of my soul.


NOTE:  I thought that as the Invictus Games

are taking place in Australia, you might like

to see the Poem that was the inspiration for

their name.

The Inquisitive Mind of a Child. Anon.

A Poem for Remembrance Day

 

Why are they selling poppies, Mummy?

Selling poppies in town today.

The poppies, child, are flowers of love.

For the men who marched away.

But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy?

Why not a beautiful rose?

Because my child, men fought and died

In the fields where the poppies grow.

But why are the poppies so red, Mummy?

Why are the poppies so red?

Red is the colour of blood, my child.

The blood that our soldiers shed.

The heart of the poppy is black, Mummy.

Why does it have to be black?

Black, my child, is the symbol of grief.

For the men who never came back.

But why, Mummy are you crying so?

Your tears are giving you pain.

My tears are my fears for you my child.

For the world is forgetting again.

Author Unknown

 

Keys, the Bane of my Life by mauveone.

In our house, for keys, we have a place for each set.

BUT, are they in their place, NO.

 

I carefully return the keys to their designated place.

BUT, does the husband, No.

 

I am supposed to guess, they are in his trouser pocket.

In his dressing gown pocket.

 

Are the garage keys in the place that the car keys live?

No, they are on the dining room table.

 

Are the Conservatory door keys in place on the radiator?

No, they are by the kettle.

He was planning to make a coffee.

 

Why, oh Why are the front door keys on top of the shoe cupboard?

Why weren’t they left in the lock?

God help us if we have a fire.

 

All I can say is, “It is a good thing that all keys have spares

In the safe”. Or are they, has he been in there too?

Keys, such a simple thing, are the bane of my life.

Shopping on T’Tinternet by Kalie Dunning.

I bought a kid on eBay,

Not new, but second hand.

I asked them for a girl,

But they sent a little man.

 

I searched all of the packaging,

To try and find guide,

But there was just a bag of Quavers

And a toddler inside.

 

It didn’t have a mute button,

For when he began to cry,

Or one to make him stop

With the infernal “Why? Why? Why?”

 

I can’t put him on stand by,

Or change the mode to ‘sleep’,

I can’t take out his batteries

If he tantrums in the street.

 

I checked on the receipt,

But it said no return,

I didn’t check the fine print,

A lesson I’ve now learned.

 

I’ve finally given up,

I’m calling it a day,

I’ll package him back up

And flog him on eBay!

 

Whale. By mauveone.

What a beautiful creature is the Whale,

Using the fin as a sail.

 

He glides through the water

Just like he ought to,

 

Such a glorious species to see

Bringing delight to you and me.

 

I have called him a HE

But there must be some who are she’s.

 

I have not even seen one for real,

There are T.V., programmes that reveal.

 

The underwater life that they inhabit,

Free in the sea, or so we thought.

 

Until Sir David Attenborough showed

The unholy mess we have created.

 

Many plastic drowning creatures

How ashamed are we when we see.

 

In our rush for plastic covered products

What the effects the Supermarkets causes.